


Wherever You Will Go

by KaidaShade



Series: Endure [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Grieving, M/M, Medical Procedures, Non-Sexual Reproduction, Post-Predacons Rising (Prime Movie), Reincarnation, Spark Bonds, Unfortunate Implications, mild body horror, self-surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-16 17:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5833978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaidaShade/pseuds/KaidaShade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Against All Odds.</p><p>Knock Out is coping... or so he thought.  The emergence of a Hot Spot - the first since the end of the war - offers the hope of new life for Cybertron, but reopens old wounds and leaves him with some difficult decisions to make.</p><p>Formerly known as Still Standing</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, Against All Odds wouldn't leave me alone and I felt like it needed a bit of closure. That closure has somehow become much, much longer than the original fic was, and guess what, it's actually going to be complete! This doesn't usually happen to things I write! But it's primarily an excuse to make Knock Out suffer, because that's what happens to my favourite characters, so if that's not your jam then you should probably take this as warning.
> 
> If it is your jam, then enjoy.

Arcee forced herself to walk down the corridor to Knock Out’s office, barely able to contain herself from jogging out of sheer excitement. She'd expected the worst when Bumblebee had called and told her to bridge the medic to his coordinates as soon as possible, but the reason was far from bad news. It was exciting enough to make the walk interminable, and when she made it and found the door closed she may have knocked a little harder than she intended.

She hadn't quite expected the yelp of pain and stream of colourful language that followed, and had her visit been less important she might have left him to it, but the sounds were followed by a call of “it's not locked! “ from within, and she slipped inside.  
“Hey Knock Out, Bee needs you for-” she stopped, taking a moment to register the scene before her, “what the frag are you doing?”

He cocked his head at her, apparently entirely unperturbed by the fact that the plating of his right arm was missing to the elbow, the internal workings spread out in a half transformed state that made Arcee feel faintly ill. He followed her gaze down to his mangled appendage and chuckled. “oh, this? Just a little maintenance, Arcee. I have to keep these hands nimble, after all.” He lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers, the motor units moving within the mesh of neural wiring and fuel lines that fed them. Arcee shuddered.  
“Ugh! Don't do that, it's creepy.”  
“Ooh, alright if it offends you that badly.” He let his arm relax into its usual state, components sliding neatly together. “What can I do for you? I assume you wouldn't have tried to smash my door down if you just wanted the pleasure of my company.”

She was suddenly struck by the change in him. It had been a month since that fateful day at the Well, and she had found herself looking for excuses to visit the medbay and check up on him. He'd been so wary, so guarded, but now he met her eyes before going back to reattaching his arm plating. “Not today. Bumblebee found a Hot Spot.”

His hand stilled, a flicker of something like hope crossing his features for a moment before he masked it again. “That's not a very funny joke, you know.”  
“It's not a joke. He says it looks pretty new, and you're the only medic on the planet right now, so you need to check it out.” Arcee replied, infusing her voice with her own keenness to be going. To see the miracle for herself. Surely, he wanted to? Who wouldnt?  
He clicked his door back into place, an absent look on his face. “So soon… I had thought it would be longer, if at all.” he said as he stood, transforming his hand a couple of times to check everything was working properly, then perked up visibly and smiled at her in that way he did when he thought he ought to be charming. “Alright! I'm no expert on preform development, despite my many talents, but I'll see what's going on out there.” 

It would have been a long, tough drive out to the Hot Spot, but thanks to the wonders of ground bridge technology it took longer to walk through the building than to get out there. Bumblebee was waiting for them, staying put in one spot but fidgeting impatiently. Arcee saw why immediately as she stepped out; the little fallen stars of sparks nestled in the ground outshone even the bridge’s green-blue glow. They were everywhere, clustered closer in some spots and spread further apart in others, in all manner of colours, every one a beautiful little miracle. 

She was almost too busy drinking in the sight to notice Knock Out coming through behind her. He was saying something, she was dimly aware, but his words cut off sharply as the bridge closed behind him. Bumblebee was picking his way over now, though, careful not to step on any of the sparks. He looked like an excited sparkling himself, eyes glowing brightly and a big grin on his face. “Isn't this incredible? I almost ran one over on the outskirts, that's how I found it. And then the more I looked the more I saw! There's hundreds of them! So I figured getting a medic to check on them was a good idea.” he looked over at Knock Out, then frowned slightly. “Hey, are you okay?”

Knock Out was stock still, body tensed like an animal sensing prey… or perhaps a predator. He didn't appear to have heard Bee at all, his red-ringed eyes fixed on some point in the distance, though Arcee saw nothing when she followed his gaze. Bumblebee approached him cautiously and waved a hand in front of his face, and he visibly jolted and snapped his focus to him. “Sorry, what?”  
“You okay?”  
“Oh, yes of course, oh brave leader. “ he said, his deer-in-the-headlights expression gone under his usual smirking mask. Arcee suspected he was stalling for time while he replayed his audio feed and figured out what he was supposed to respond to. “I'll take a look around, record everything, but it's going to take a lot of research before I call myself competent. My training was more concerned with preventing bots from leaving this world than bringing them into it.”  
“Guess that makes sense…” Bee looked dubious, and Knock Out rolled his eyes.  
“it does. Care of preforms is a very specialised task. It's not something they usually leave to emergency medics.” he explained. “I suppose I could contact Ratchet but I doubt he'll know much either. “ and he clearly didn't like the idea of admitting he didn't know something to the old doctor anyway, “Anyway, just leave it to me. You go back to base and rest for a while.” the medic added hastily, shooing Bee with a gesture.

Arcee exchanged a glance with Bumblebee. Seemed the comment had set off a few warning bells in his processor; Knock Out wasn't as subtle about wanting him gone as he thought. She suspected she knew why, but it wasn't something she'd shared with her teammates. She figured he deserved his privacy. “Go on Bee. I'll keep an eye on things here; who knows who else might be interested in this place? “ 

The last part was for Knock Out, who had scowled at her offer. He clearly didn't appreciate the implication that he needed to be watched, but he wanted Bee gone more. He nodded. “Thank you Arcee,” he said in honeyed tones, “I will feel utterly protected under your watchful eye.”   
Bee still looked dubious, but he too nodded and radioed for a bridge. The moment he was gone Knock Out turned and strode off across the grey plain, nimbly avoiding the growing sparks. He was tense again, the wheels on his back twitching occasionally as if he wanted to drive but didn't dare. Arcee followed him at a distance, concerned. She suspected she knew what he was looking for, but what if he didn't find it? What if he did?

It seemed like they walked for hours, though it was nowhere near that. Arcee almost lost sight of Knock Out a couple of times, but the afternoon sun gleaming off his crimson plating always picked him out for her, and for once she was grateful for his vanity. He paused once, head cocked as if listening for something, then darted off almost at a run and disappeared over a low rise in the ground.

By the time she caught up he was crouched low over something on the ground, his hand cupped protectively around it. Golden light reflected off his fingers, and Arcee realised with a jolt that it was a spark. It seemed to glow brighter than the rest, though whether it really was or Knock Out’s shadow made it appear that way was impossible to say. Arcee hesitated at the crest of the hill, reluctant to interrupt him. She could see his shoulders shaking from here.

He stayed there for a long time, Arcee didn't know how long. She didn't hear a sound from him, but when he finally stood and spotted her his eyes were damp. He watched her watching him for a few moments, then set off stiffly back up the hill towards her. His voice was still peppered with static when he spoke to her. “I expect you know, I would prefer if this stayed between us.” He said.   
“I know. Until you're ready to tell everyone yourself.” She agreed gently, extending the hint with no expectation. He snorted, but didn't reply. So he wouldn't be doing that any time soon, she thought as she watched him walk off, pulling some kind of scanner from his subspace. Even now, he hadn't forgotten that he had a job to do here. She left him to it, setting to scouting the area.

They stayed until the sun was touching the horizon, and Knock Out padded over to her quietly. “I haven't finished, but we should be heading back. “ He said, his voice lacking his usual energy. “I… wanted to thank you.”  
“For what?” She looked up, surprised.  
“For not asking too many questions. I know you're wondering.” He was right, and she had to nod. He vented hard, gathering himself. “It was him. He's here, just a spark at the moment so… it's impossible to tell anything. But I would know it anywhere.” he pressed his hand to his chest, as though it still pained him. “There really isn't anyone else who can do this, is there?”  
“Not yet. Soon, hopefully. I would've thought you'd be happy, though?”  
“Don't you remember? I wanted to stay away from him.” he snapped, then let out a quiet groan of frustration. “and now I'm here I don't want to leave. I can't win! I should never have-”   
“Knock Out.” he stopped, looked at her quizzically. “Don't. You gotta see this through for your own sake as much as anything. Is it really that bad?”  
“Yes, Arcee, yes it is. The bond might fade as he matures, but right now I'm being irrevocably drawn to a barely implanted spark. Doesn't that strike you as disgusting?”

It was, she had to admit, pretty unsavoury. Not his fault, but still wrong. “Let's go.” he muttered, calling the base as he walked away from her. “I have a lot of research to do.”


	2. Chapter 2

Knock Out felt terrible. He knew he looked terrible too; sagging from exhaustion, plating still coated in the dust of yesterday's trip to the Hot Spot, his claws clumsy on the keypad for the med bay door, and that only made him feel worse. At least the restless night had been worthwhile, he thought. Poring through what had been recovered of the Iacon Archives had been spectacularly tedious; the vast treasure trove of information was in a state of chaos, unindexed and half corrupted or missing entirely, but he'd found what he was looking for some time in the early hours of the morning.

Now he planned to return to his den and work his way through the ancient textbook he'd downloaded onto a datapad, but he was so tired that it took him a moment to register the voices coming from within. They cut off as he opened the door, and he stared in uncomprehending silence for a moment before he managed to sort his thoughts out enough to say, “Arcee, why are you in here and who is that?” he pointed a finger at the unfamiliar bot, a red and white femme who seemed to be examining him critically. Even in his current state he noticed the way her gaze lingered on his red optics, his sharp claws, and he also noticed the way she tensed. Just like every other Autobot he met, he registered as a threat.

Arcee had noticed too, and she was doing her best to show how very unthreatened she felt by his presence. “Right… sorry, we came here looking for you and I figured you wouldn't mind us waiting here. This is Red Alert, she just arrived this morning.” she gestured to the femme, who was still eyeing him. “Red Alert, this is Knock Out, he's currently the only other medic on the planet since Ratchet went back to Earth.”

Knock Out was too tired to be charming, but he tried anyway. “Delighted.” He said, trying for a winning smile and offering a hand to her. She didn't take it, which left him floundering for a moment before he withdrew. Fine then. He hitched the datapad up under his arm and drew himself up. “Well. I should go. I have a Hot Spot to tend to.” He said and turned to go, but then Arcee spoke again. “You okay Knock Out? You look really rough. When was the last time you recharged?”

Great. Even she thought he looked awful, that really improved his mood. He masked his irritation with a casual smile thrown over his shoulder. “I'm fine, Arcee. Just a late night in the archives.” He waved the datapad at her, then departed before she could question him further.

Red Alert was still staring at him.

Knock Out drove out to the Hot Spot rather than bridging. Exhausted or not, the sensation of rough ground under his tyres and wind over his frame always invigorated him. That, and talking to whoever was on ground bridge duty today was more than he felt capable of right then. He was used to distrust; it was a default state of being among the Decepticon ranks, but it was different when it was only directed at you.

He transformed just beyond the boundary of the Hot Spot and made his way in, drawn without thinking to one particular spark. It was only when he'd crouched by it that he realised he'd forgotten all his equipment in his haste to escape the medbay. He groaned quietly and sat down heavily against a nearby rock, running a hand over his face. The golden spark seemed to pulse sympathetically, but he was fairly certain that was exhaustion playing tricks on him. “I know, I'm useless without you to run around after me.” He said to it anyway, because it made him feel better. The spark, unsurprisingly, didn't respond. Part of his mind reminded him that he shouldn't be here, that he shouldn't be succumbing to his desire to be close to this particular spark. It wasn't Breakdown any more, no matter how much its proximity felt like his presence. The rest of his mind was too weary to care right now. 

At least he had the datapad. It wouldn't be the first time he found himself pouring over scavenged medical texts while running on empty he thought, indulging in a moment of nostalgia. Those memories were safe, that was before they'd met. He sighed, booted up the datapad, and began to read.

He woke with a start several hours later, the datapad sliding off his leg onto the ground. He didn't even remember going offline, but last he'd checked the sun had been high in the sky and it was now brushing the horizon. His internal systems were warning him of low fuel, and his tanks felt unpleasantly empty as he hauled himself ponderously to his feet. In the lowering light the field of sparks looked like blazing stars, and he just stood for a moment admiring the beauty of it in a hazy sort of way before his processor kicked back in and he remembered to comm for a bridge back.

He soon had a cube of Energon in hand and was making his way back to the medbay with it, mind elsewhere, only to once again be brought up short by voices. Great. He'd almost managed to forget about Red Alert, but it seemed she'd settled into his medbay just fine. Who did she think she was, just waltzing in like she owned the place, using his equipment and treating his patients? He growled to himself and diverted back to his quarters, resolving to deal with her in the morning. He would assert himself and his authority, but he wasn't going to make much of an impression when he could feel his plating crawling with filth and his processor seemed to be trying to melt its way out through his audial. 

Tomorrow, he would chase her off. But tonight, he was going to have a long bath and crash until he felt like a sentient being again.


	3. Chapter 3

In the end, Knock Out didn’t get the chance to speak to Red Alert. He was woken the next morning by an urgent comm about a construction accident involving several Vehicons, about thirty tonnes of scaffolding and a particularly exasperated Bulkhead. Nothing fatal, fortunately, but patching up the casualties took the entire morning and by the time he dragged himself back to the medbay the object of his ire was gone, called out to help greet a newly arrived ship. He supposed it was for the best; any Autobots who landed to find themselves confronted by him would probably open fire before they thought about asking questions.

Red Alert’s arrival was just the first of many, and between the sudden flood of newcomers- many of whom were injured, sick, or in need of quarantine- and caring for the Hot Spot, Knock Out barely saw his new colleague at all, let alone spoke to her. If she wasn’t as busy as he was, he might have thought she was avoiding him. He barely had time to think, anyway, and he couldn’t say he was complaining about that. There was only one thing on his mind when he got a moment, and he knew he shouldn’t be thinking about him.

The accident found him landed with a pair of Vehicons deemed too clumsy to be allowed near a construction site, and he was equal parts irritated by and glad for their company at the Hot Spot. He knew them; both were perpetual visitors to the medbay thanks to their various misadventures, and talking with them was easy enough while they worked. A little basic training with a medical scanner and several buzzsaw-enhanced warnings to watch where you step, Pivot! and he could get through twice as much in a day. Their presence also kept him reminded that he shouldn’t be succumbing to the persistent little tug at his spark, weaker than it had been but still ever present.

The manic burst of activity died down after a couple of weeks, and Knock Out finally found himself at a loose end one afternoon. He gazed around the empty medbay with something approaching satisfaction, then let himself sink gratefully into a chair and close his eyes for a moment. Perhaps he’d indulge in a nap, even if he was still technically on duty. 

The sound of the door opening interrupted his quiet time not five minutes later, and he cracked an eye open with an irritated huff, fully prepared to tell some idiot to go away and come back when something fell off.

It wasn’t some idiot. It was Arcee, and she actually looked pleased to see him. He was still getting used to that, and it surprised him enough that he actually took his feet off his desk and paid her his full attention. “Can I help you with something, Arcee?”  
“Not exactly. We’re planning a bit of a get-together, the old Earth crew, we wondered if you wanted to come.”  
“Really?” His voice dripped sarcasm and he leaned back on his chair.   
“Yeah, really. It’s not just me who likes you y’know- don’t make that noise.” She frowned at Knock Out’s skeptical snort, hands on her hips.  
“If you’re quite sure they will tolerate my company, I suppose I can grace them with it.” He shrugged. “But if Wheeljack describes one of his conquests as ‘prettier than Knock Out but half as full of exhaust’ again,” He said, imitating the old Wrecker’s voice, “I’m leaving.”  
He took some satisfaction from watching her try not to smirk at that, then slid to his feet. “When and where?”  
“Common room, in a couple of hours, not really a fixed time. I think Smokey and Bee are already there.” She shrugged.   
“I’ll turn up at some point.” He agreed, examining his claws as if he wasn’t too bothered either way. He saw Arcee nod out of the corner of his eye, and then she was off. He waited until she was out of earshot before diving for his polish stash. It wouldn’t do to turn up looking less than his best now, would it?

-

Arcee hadn’t expected him to accept, and then she hadn’t expected him to actually show up, but apparently tonight was a night of Knock Out surprising her. Admittedly he hadn’t said much at first, but he’d accepted a canister of high grade and settled down next to her, and eventually he’d gotten himself neck-deep in a debate with the youngest Autobots about, predictably, cars. Smokescreen especially seemed impressed by his almost encyclopedic knowledge of Earth’s performance vehicles. 

It was actually quite entertaining to see Knock Out relaxed. He had a habit of gesturing with his drink and occasionally he underestimated how much he had left and a little of the energon sloshed over his fingers, but he had no compunctions about licking it off. When he caught Wheeljack looking he seemed to deliberately do it more slowly, which had the Wrecker rolling his eyes at him as he went back to his conversation with Bulkhead. A month ago Wheeljack had barely been willing to acknowledge Knock Out’s existence, so Arcee thought of this as a positive step.

Time passed, high grade was consumed and the topic of conversation turned, as it so often did when they were all together, to reminiscing. The war was what had brought them all together and for some it was all they had ever known, so all the stories ended up being war stories, but the kind that happened in the lulls between battles, fond memories amid all the awful ones. Even Smokescreen managed to tell a few, though they were mostly second hand or from his training at the Academy. Knock Out was mostly quiet again, but Arcee didn't blame him for that. Everyone he recognised from their anecdotes had been an enemy to him if he knew them at all, and a comment might be taken the wrong way. He'd sat down next to her when they'd all come together, and kept accidentally leaning on her every time Smokescreen- seated on his other side- got a bit too enthusiastic with the hand gestures. Maybe she would have found it irritating in other circumstances, but lightly buzzed and surrounded by friends it just seemed like part of the background. 

“Alright alright, my turn.” Bulkhead raised his voice over the laughter that followed one of Bumblebees tales, and once the last of it had died away he carried on, “so this was way back near the start of the war, back when me n Jackie just met. We were just hangin out in this bar- real dive, but eh, neutral territory- and this bot came right on up to me like he was spoiling for a fight. Got right up in my face n said next time he saw me out on the field he was gonna take my head off.” he paused for a moment, taking a swig of energon, “Anyway, that's how I met Breakdown. Only realised later he was the same crazy slagger who'd tried to tackle me like a week before. He was about half the size then.”   
Arcee felt Knock Out tense beside her, but apparently Bulkhead hadn't noticed. “Kinda admired that, actually. Breakdown was a grade-a tailpipe but he had real bearings on him. I'm almost sorry. .. he's. .. ah frag.”

Arcee wasn't sure what had stopped him. It might have been her attempts to subtly signal to him, or it might have been the quiet crackling sound of Knock Outs energon canister slowly being crushed in his grip, or it might have been the fact that the medic seemed to be trying to burn a hole in Bulkheads face with the force of his glare. Either way, everybody had gone very quiet and they were all looking at Knock Out. Smokescreen was leaning away from him a little.

“Oh no, Bulkhead, do go on.” he purred, silky as spiderwebs and dripping with venom, “I'm sure everyone wants to hear how sad you are that your rival is dead. Don't mind me.”  
Bulkhead winced. He hadn't thought this through, and he was only just now realising. “Sorry Knock Out, I didn't mean-”  
“Maybe I should tell a story after all.” Knock Out was merciless, smiling only in the sense that his teeth were showing. “Oh I know, how about the time I saw a tiny little generic turn around and face down the Wrecker who was taking his team apart? His retreating team. Never thought he'd survive that, honestly I've never seen anyone take a wrecking ball to the chest and get back up quite so many times. I had a lot of work to put that back together.” he carried on, his voice bright and brittle and forced casual, even as Arcee watched his hands, curled into fists and shaking. Bulkhead opened his mouth as if to protest, but Knock Out cut him off again with a snarl. “You're not sorry he's gone so don't you dare say you are. You just wish you'd done it yourself.” he stood, his chair scraping across the floor, and stormed out. Nobody tried to stop him. Nobody even dared to move until the door had slammed behind him.

“...Whoa.” Smokescreen breathed, letting himself relax back onto his seat and shuffling awkwardly. “Never seen him lose it like that, well done Bulkhead.”  
Arcee elbowed him sharply and he yelped “Not helping.”  
Bulkhead looked totally lost, sat with his hands in his lap. “Didn't think he'd be that mad. I mean yeah, they were friends, but I was being pretty nice about him. “ well… as far as he could ever possibly be nice about Breakdown. “Should I…”  
“No. Leave him to cool off a bit, then go apologise tomorrow when you're sober.” Arcee advised. He seemed to take this as wise; after all, Arcee was the closest of any of them to Knock Out, even if she didn't know him all that well.

The evening had a more subdued air after that, nobody quite able to recapture the good humour of before. Eventually they called it a night, and Arcee decided to go check on their errant medic. Or at least, that was the plan. He didn't answer when she knocked on his door and he wasn't in the medbay, but perhaps he'd already powered down for the night? That kind of emotional outburst was, frankly, exhausting.

She didn't encounter him again until the next day, when he pulled her aside in the mess hall. “Arcee, I feel I should apologize for my behaviour last night.” he muttered, which didn't necessarily mean he was actually sorry. “Would you mind telling Bulkhead?”  
“Why not tell him yourself?” she asked, not entirely unsympathetic. He looked like he hadn't recharged again, eyes dim and half-lidded.   
“Because he's an Autobot and he might try to talk about it, you're all quite fond of that. I don't want to talk about it.” he added, when he saw her open her mouth to offer. “Not to him, or to anyone.”  
She sighed, but nodded her understanding. She knew she wasn't one to talk about letting people in. “I'll tell him. If you change your mind, you know my comm frequency.”  
“Of course.” She knew he wouldn't call, and that shouldn't have been as frustrating as it was. She was beginning to understand why her team had been so worried about her, after Cliffjumper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, never thought I'd get this far with this. I definitely have an ending planned out now, so you never know, you might even get to see it!
> 
> I've made a couple of edits to the first two chapters. Nothing major, mostly just spelling mistakes I missed the first time. About 90% of this fic is written on my phone in my lunch breaks, so I miss stuff like that.
> 
> I just wanted to thank everyone who's left kudos and comments and bookmarked this, it's really motivating!


	4. Chapter 4

Knock Out returned to his medbay to refuel, not feeling up to the mess hall’s noise and chatter. Someone must have said something to someone else, because a few of the new arrivals had been giving him more obvious distrustful stares than usual, as though they had even more reason to expect the former ‘ Con in their midst to snap and go on a killing spree. Tempting as the thought might be, he had more sense than that. He pushed the thought aside as he rounded the corner…

And walked straight into Red Alert coming the other way. He staggered back, more from shock than anything else, and winced as he felt his shoulder scrape the wall. It left a streak of red paint, and he groaned in frustration. Great, fantastic, just what he needed. At least he hadn't dropped his breakfast, though at least some of it had ended up smeared across Red Alert’s chestplate. She frowned at him, and he bristled before she said, “Are you alright, Knock Out?” 

Her tone was guarded but her concern seemed genuine, professional at least. “This is going to take forever to fix.” he muttered, rather than answering the question she'd actually asked. The scratch was in a spot he could only just see on his own, let alone reach easily. She tilted her head to look, her frown deepening as she took in his appearance. “You look exhausted. Maybe you should stay here today, let me go out to the Hot Spot.”  
“No!” he snapped, surprising even himself. He forced a smile, trying to cover it. It had only been an offer; she was an Autobot, they didn't connive, but he had spent too long expecting to be undermined to see it that way immediately . “No need, Red Alert. I'm more than capable, and this is important. As CMO I should handle it myself.” Just in case she needed reminding of just who was in charge.  
Her expression was inscrutable as he strode off, internally kicking himself for that pathetic loss of composure.

He should have let her go, he realised later as he finished refuelling. When had this become so important to him? When had he forgotten that he was supposed to be staying away from whoever Breakdown was becoming? He sighed miserably to himself, claws tapping on the table. This was impossible. The thought of handing over the Hot Spot now, after he'd spent so long caring for it, rankled as badly as handing over all his research to Shockwave had.

He stood. He'd just have to do this. It would be far easier to avoid Breakdown once he came online if he was out there all the time anyway, he reasoned as he gathered his equipment. He didn't bother trying to find his assistants; the idea of company didn't appeal at all, and soon enough he was stepping out of the ground bridge onto the Hot Spot’s soil.

Things had changed in the last few weeks. The ground still gleamed with sparks, but it was no longer flat. Everywhere the shapes of forming bots distorted the terrain, some mere suggestions of form while others were becoming more defined already. He had to tread even more carefully now, picking his way around feet or stepping over the tip of a forming wing and even once something that looked like it might be a tail to make his way. The work soothed him, a familiar routine of checking and recording that he fell into easily. The lingering tug on his spark was still there, but he deliberately ignored it, leaving the spot it came from until last.

The sun was high by the time he crested the ridge and looked down on what he'd come to think of as Breakdown’s valley, and it gleamed off the preforms and… something else. Something that was not supposed to be there. He stopped dead, reaching up to activate his commlink. The jut of wings, the graceful, slim lines of a bot he knew far too well, shifted at the sound of his approach.

Starscream turned and smiled at him. A shiver went up his back as though someone had poured cold water on him.“Long time no see, Doctor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's so short! I sacrificed length for a convenient stopping point and a juicy cliffhanger. The next chapter and most of the penultimate one are already written but I'm not going to post them get, so I'm afraid if anyone actually cares about this fic you're going to have to stew for a bit


	5. Chapter 5

“Commander, do you have a moment?” Arcee turned from her monitor to find Red Alert in the doorway.  
“I'm not exactly a commander anymore, Red Alert. What do you need?”  
The medic stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. “I don't want to make things difficult, I know you two have become friends, but I have some… concerns about Knock Out.”   
“What's he done?” she sighed. This wasn't the first time she'd had this conversation in one form or another. Usually it was some minor infraction or his usual sass offending someone, but Red Alert seemed far too grave for that.  
“He hasn't done anything as such. Well, not recently. But… is it really wise to leave a former Decepticon in charge of the first Hot Spot this planet has seen in thousands of years? Especially this one?”  
“This one?” Some unidentifiable dread niggled at the back of her mind. She'd always thought of Knock Out as one of the least threatening Decepticons, even when they had been enemies. Had she been deceived? “Do you know something about him?”  
Red Alert folded her arms and looked away, uncomfortable. “He had a reputation. Back when both sides used to share field hospitals. Everyone knew he was a scavenger who looted spare parts from the dead, and there were rumours that he was… experimenting,” she shuddered, “on his patients. I never found out if that was true; I never actually spoke to him before the hospitals were separated.”

Arcee shivered. Part of her wanted to defend him; he'd changed, he wasn't like that… but had he? Was he? He was- had been- a Decepticon, lying was what they did. Red Alert sighed, and seemed about to say something when a burst of static invaded Arcee’ comm line. She winced, but a few seconds later the noise resolved into something properly audible, if faint.

“Long time no see, Doctor.” Starscream’s unmistakable voice purred in her audial. Red Alert must have noticed her horrified expression, because she straightened up. “What is it, is someone hurt?”   
Arcee shook her head, and with a couple of taps on the console transferred the audio feed to the computer’s speakers.  
“Starscream.” Knock Out’s voice was guarded, wary, and came through louder. His audio feed, then. “We all thought you were dead.”  
“Fortunately not. No thanks to you.”  
“What do you want?”  
“That's simple, Doctor. I want you. I'm willing to give you another chance. I'm sure you must be tired of being the Autobots’ pet traitor by now.” The faint click of heels suggested Starscream’s approach, “Look, they've got you coddling a bunch of useless preforms? A bot of your calibre could do so much better as my second in command.”

Arcee motioned to Red Alert to get her attention, then sent her a message- ‘contact Ultra Magnus, get a team out to the Hot Spot. Preferably bots who won't shoot first and ask questions later’. The medic nodded and got to it, while Arcee remained glued to the monitor. He wouldn't be sending her this if he was tempted by the offer, right?

“Oh? Do tell me, Herr Kommandant, what exactly do you have planned?” His tone had changed, coyly curious, and Arcee swore under her breath. She hoped this was a ploy to keep Starscream talking, stall for time, but she couldn't be sure.  
“I -we, if you see sense- will restore the Decepticons to their former glory. Why, together we could gather a real army once more, and oust the Autobots. We would rule Cybertron!”  
“How very lofty of you, Starscream. Ambitious as ever. But why me?”  
“You showed promise in our previous acquaintance, even if your judgement was clouded by your captivity. I'm willing to forgive that, if you demonstrate your loyalty now.”  
“Oh?”  
“Destroy this place. We don't have the resources to take advantage of it now, it's only a source of soldiers for the Autobots.”

The silence hung, dragged out long and awful. “No.”  
“No?”  
“You've lost your mind, Starscream!” Knock Out cried. “The war was one thing, but that… that is sick. If that's what you have planned then I will never work for you!” The conviction in his voice was stronger than Arcee had ever heard, and even Starscream was silenced by it for a moment.   
“Very well. I see any further conversation is pointless, and no doubt you've alerted your new masters to my presence.” Starscream growled, then came the sound of transformation and the blast of a plane’s engines. There was a pause.  
“Arcee, please tell me you heard that?” Knock Out sounded decidedly shaken. It took Arcee a moment to remember how to speak.  
“Yeah, every word.”  
“Good. I've been a fool, we should have had guards from the beg-” He stopped abruptly, then Arcee heard him curse and the sound of running footsteps.

Moments later, the comm erupted into a roar of noise, cut off abruptly. She stood numb amid the silence that followed, trying to process what had happened.


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing he was aware of was that he was. He didn't know who or what, or where, but he was. Slowly parts started to come online: arms and legs, sensitive to the touch of the ground beneath him and the gentle wind against his plating; audio receptors informing him of faint shuffling sounds and noises that some part of him recognised as words. He knew he had eyes, and if he opened them he might see, but he didn't, or perhaps couldn't just yet. 

He lay still for a long time, letting the world wash over him, all as new to him as he was to it and yet somehow familiar. After a little while he got bored of this and tried to move, starting with something simple. Fingers, fingers were easy right? Apparently harder than he thought- they felt all wrong, too small and weak- but after a few tries he could get his hands to curl up and straighten out again. Not very useful, but apparently enough to attract attention.

The sounds came closer, a distinct pattern that he somehow knew as footsteps. Another bot? He felt as much as heard them crouch beside him, then jerked as something touched his arm, his eyes finally snapping open. He immediately closed them, blinded and overwhelmed by the light, and he heard a gentle voice say, “Easy. There's no rush.”

He tried again, cracking open just one eye. It was still bright, but the blurry red and white shape looming over him offered some relief. For a moment his spark did something strange in his chest, and then the shape came a little more into focus and he felt… disappointed? Why? The bot smiled at him, but didn't try to touch him again. “Welcome to the world. Do you understand me?” she asked. He nodded and she seemed surprised, but not displeased. Was that unusual, then? He had no idea.

She guided him through a systems check and helped him to sit up, and he gazed around at the surroundings for the first time. In the distance, gleaming mountains were visible, but this area was flatter, only a few small hills breaking it up. He sat in the shadow of one, which looked strange. The ground was darker than the surroundings and there was a hole in the side of the hill. Blasted out of it, that mysterious part of his mind supplied, though he didn't know how he knew. There was also a distinct lack of other preforms in that dark patch, which seemed strange.

The red and white bot didn't seem inclined to explain, since she was too busy sweeping bits of dirt from his back with careful, precise motions. “Do you know your name?” she asked, which was a stupid question. Nobody had given him a name, how would he-

It hit him like a missile to the face, all at once, and he nearly fell backwards into the depression he'd just vacated. Kaon’s streets, the uprising, the war, fighting alone and with a team he didn't trust even though they were all him half the time, a green bot whose face filled him with hate, crimson paintwork and a coy smile and clever clawed fingers, gold wheels driving on alien roads, a tiny pink creature smirking down at him, a dark night filled with spiderwebs and screams. 

And his name. Who he was, through all of it, the name he'd given himself in another life. “Breakdown. I'm Breakdown.”

-

The medic -Red Alert, as she introduced herself- was an Autobot, judging by her badge, and either she didn't recognise his name or she didn't care who he had once been. She was more interested in how much of his past life he remembered, and the more she prodded the more he recalled. If it weren't for the new body and the big chunk of missing time between his last memory and now it might have been as though he'd never died. It felt like the world had changed more than he had since his death; predacons returned to the universe, Cybertron restored to glorious life, the Decepticons nothing more than a bad memory.

And yet something was missing from this brave new world. Something in his spark didn't quite sit right against something that should be there and wasn't. As he and the other newsparks who had woken that day were led through the new base to be assigned quarters he found himself starting at every flash of red, hope surging only to be dashed once more. He saw plenty of bots he knew, mostly as enemies with a few red optics mixed in, but Knock Out was nowhere to be found. He saw far more of himself, reflected in glass and metal, and every time it was jarring. He was so much smaller than he had been, his paintwork mostly white rather than the blue he remembered. At least his face was the same, he thought, then distracted himself when he caught another glimpse of crimson from the corner of his eye.

He had to know. He waited until it was just him and Red Alert, the others left to acclimatise to their new homes, then reset his vocaliser to ask “Uh, Red Alert, I was just wondering, is it just you on the medical staff or is there anyone else?”  
She paused, considering her answer. “At the moment it's just me and First Aid. Why do you ask?”  
His spark sank, and he sighed before answering. “Just wondering about my… friend. Whether he made it through the war. Medic, red paintjob, alt mode is a flashy Earth sports car?”   
Nobody had ever given him such a pitying look before in his life, and Red Alert covered her mouth with her hand and looked away for a moment before she asked “Knock Out?” grimly.  
“Yeah! You know him?” he should have been excited, but… “is he okay?”  
“Well… he's alive.” she sighed, a hand on the back of her neck as she tried to find the right words. “Maybe I should show you.”  
“Please.” he wasn't one to beg. Even when Airachnid had him in her sights he hadn't begged, but he needed to know what had happened.

She led him to the medbay, another red and white Autobot glancing up curiously from the diagnostic he was running as they headed through one of several doors in the back. The lights were dimmed in here, the room mostly illuminated by the glow of computer monitors and quiet except for a slow, steady beeping. A tangle of wires and other equipment hung above the single berth; a setup he had last seen dedicated to keeping Megatron himself alive. But the bot at the focus of it all was far smaller than Megatron.

Breakdown stood frozen for a moment, just taking in the awful sight, then all but ran to Knock Out’s side. His eyes were closed, pale face deathly still, and at first glance Breakdown could see no damage aside from a few almost healed scuffs to his chest plate and arm. The more he looked, however, the more he realised. Just visible on the parts of his back that could be seen were areas of bubbled, charred paint, deep gouges that had been welded together but still showed silver, the slightly different colour on one of his legs. “What happened?” He asked, his voice rough with static. “Who did this?”

“Starscream. He tried to persuade Knock Out to join him again, and when he refused he fired a missile into the Hot Spot. As far as we can tell, Knock Out threw himself on top of you just before it hit.” Red Alert explained, her voice low as she adjusted one of the machines keeping Knock Out alive. “I thought it was chance, but if you knew him…”  
“Yeah, I did.” he let his hand brush Knock Out’s limp fingers, heard a brief increase in the beeping from the machine. He glanced up in concern to find Red Alert looking between him and the monitor thoughtfully. He vaguely remembered Knock Out telling him about something like this- bots stuck in stasis responding to the presence of their Conjux- but he'd never seen it happen. He rested his hand over Knock Out’s, held it. “Will he come back online?”  
“We don't know. He's healing slowly, but it's been months.” she shook her head, but couldn't quite hide the glimmer of hope in her voice. Something had changed, and she was a medic, she knew that. She reset her vocaliser and straightened. “But you aren't to stay here. You're a new bot, even if you remember who you were. You have a life to live.”  
“Yeah but-”  
“You can visit, but I'm not having you waste the first months of your life on this. If he loves you he’d say the same.”  
“How'd you know that?”  
“He hasn't responded to anyone else. I can take a guess. This isn't exactly a common situation, so I have no idea what's going to happen or how, but you're both my responsibility so I'm going to make you do what's best for you.” she explained, leaving the machines to their work and heading for the door. “But I'll give you a moment before I kick you out.”

Breakdown sighed. “Thanks. But… can I ask you something?”  
“Hmm? “  
“Can you keep this to yourself? We never told anyone and I don't wanna let it out without asking him.”  
“Of course. Patient confidentiality.” she even had a little smile for him as she left, shutting the door behind her. Breakdown waited until she'd gone before shifting his grip on Knock Out’s hand and crouching to his level. He felt he should say something, even if his conjux probably couldn't hear it.

“Hey. It's me.” he began awkwardly, keeping his voice low just in case someone was listening. “Thanks for saving my aft again. I dunno if you planned on surviving or not, but... you better. I didn't come back just to watch you go offline, so don't do that to me, okay?” he gave his hand a squeeze, hoping that maybe he'd respond, but nothing happened. Breakdown paused something clicking into place in his mind. There was something he could do…  
“Red Alert’s right; I can't just sit here. I'm gonna find Starscream and kill him, make sure he's never a threat again. To us or to the other preforms at the Hot Spot. The Autobots can't complain about that, right?” he didn't want to wait for an answer to that. Knock Out wasn't going to provide one.

He fell quiet after that, crouched in the dimness listening to the beeping monitors, and true to her word it was some time before Red Alert returned to guide him back to his quarters. He paused in the doorway, looking back at the still form on the berth until the door slid shut and obscured him from view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, one more chapter left to post, thanks for reading guys!


	7. Chapter 7

The first thing he was aware of was that he was aware. Not of much; he knew who he was but not where, or how, or how long he had been there, but as his systems slowly came online they began to suggest possibilities. The first thing to make itself known was the weight on his chest, and if his processor wasn’t still booting he might have panicked about that. As it was it was merely data, transmitted sluggishly through his mind as he sought to make sense of it. His hearing took longer, but slowly he was able to make sense of the steady, persistent beeping of a monitor. The medbay, his memory supplied. It stubbornly refused to give up how he had arrived there, however.

Another sound caught his attention, and he strained to figure out what it was. A soft rushing of air, steady and rhythmical, and a low rumble he couldn’t quite comprehend. He tried to open his eyes or twitch his fingers, but they weren’t responding yet. He was vaguely aware he was lying on his back, judging by the pressure on his wheels. He couldn’t quite explain the pressure on his hand, though, or the occasional movements he felt against his fingers.

Slowly, things started to make a little more sense; the rumbling noise resolved itself into a voice, though the words still didn’t make much sense. But he knew that voice, almost as well as he knew his own, and he threw all his pitiful awareness into forcing an eye open, just a crack. It was impossible that he should be hearing that voice now, unless it had all been a terrible, wonderful dream…

The voice cut off abruptly as his visual feed kicked in, blurry and unfocused. There was an indistinct blur of white and blue and orange in the corner of his vision, and just moving his eye enough to focus on it was exhausting. Another bot, he realised dimly, but one he didn’t recognise, one that didn’t match with the voice. Had that been the dream?  
“...Knock Out?” No, that was the same voice, coming from this stranger’s mouth. Could it be? “Hey, can you hear me?” It was. It had to be. 

 

He forced his other eye to open, threw himself into bringing that face into focus and drinking it in. The colours were all wrong, the build was wrong, but he would know those golden optics anywhere. “Am I dead?” He tried to ask, but it came out faint and garbled and virtually incomprehensible with static. He reset and tried again. “...Breakdown?”  
“Yeah. I mean… no. You’re alive… thank Primus, you’re alive. And so am I.” Suddenly the weight on his hand made sense; Breakdown’s fingers, real and warm and alive, resting over his own, curling to hold him like a lifeline.  
“You came back.” He couldn’t believe this. It had to be a dream, some dying hallucination or desperate fantasy, but surely if it was he would have the strength to sit up, to do something?  
“Yeah. Like I was just gonna leave you to do all this on your own. Especially after what you did for me.” Knock Out’s spark clenched at the flash of guilt on Breakdown’s face, and he longed to reach out and wipe it away. His body still wasn’t responding properly; all he could manage was a confused noise. It seemed to be enough to open the floodgates.

Ten minutes later, he was even more disorientated but had a vague idea of how he’d ended up here and how long it had been. Months. Too long. At least it had given his systems time to boot properly, and he managed to lift a hand shakily to Breakdown’s face, clawtips tracing familiar contours. The effect was perhaps ruined when a tremor nearly drove the point of a finger into his lover’s optic, but Breakdown just covered his hand with his own and held it, closing his eyes for a moment and smiling. “I missed you.” He murmured, as though embarrassed to admit it.

Knock Out wasn’t having that. He summoned every ounce of strength he possessed, feeble though that was, and pulled Breakdown’s head down to press their foreheads together. He was so surprised that he didn’t resist, and Knock Out closed his eyes, venting hard from the effort. He refused to let go even when he heard the door open. Let them see, let them hear, it didn’t matter. They were alive and together and he didn’t care about secrecy any more. Who cared, when his spark was singing in his chest?

“I love you.” He said, and there was no hesitation in Breakdown’s reply.  
“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's that finished! This is the first multi chapter fic I've completed since I was about 13, so I'm rather proud of myself. Questions, comments? I love them, feel free to leave them!
> 
> You can find me as kaidashade on tumblr as well, though I don't post any transformers stuff there- I'm definitely up for making friends in this fandom though. 
> 
> I've got a bunch of ideas for more fics, including a sequel to this featuring a gay robot wedding, the bad ending for this fic, and a big long backstory thing for Knock Out, so keep an eye out for those if you like what I'm doing here.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


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